


No weapons, no friends, no hope

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: If the apocalypse comes, beep me [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fusion, And I've had a rough week, Barry is the Slayer, Depression, I write in this universe when I'm depressed okay?, M/M, Past Character Death, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampire Leonard Snart, Vampire Lisa, Witch Caitlin Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 15:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Once the vampires were all ash, Barry’s savior turned to face him. “Hello, Slayer.”Barry’s first thought was “Wow. That is an attractive man.” Followed closely by, “Wait, how does he know about the Slayer?”





	No weapons, no friends, no hope

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do a long Buffy AU story, but I'm super busy and would rather break up everything into a series of stories. Wally is going to come in, eventually, and Mick and Barry will be explored more, and there may be some Coldflashwave on the horizon, but this is just the basic backstory of the series and where it's coming from. There will be flashbacks and such, but they'll be mixed into other stories.

            Barry remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on Leonard Snart.

            It was almost a month after he’d been Called. A month after the death of Oliver Queen at the hands of the demon, Ra’s al Ghul. A month after his physics teacher came to him claiming that he was something called The Slayer, and that he was to be a teacher and protector known as his Watcher.

            At first, he’d thought that Dr. Wells lost his mind. After all, vampires didn’t exist, and neither did demons or witches or werewolves. Barry believed in a lot of things, but even that was a bit much for him to wrap his head around.

            Until he saw a man claw his way out of a fresh grave, fangs sharp and face distorted. Dr. Wells stood by and watched him fight off the vampire, his strength and speed increased by at least ten percent. Then, once Barry had him beat down, Wells staked the vampire in the heart without so much as a flinch. That stuck with Barry.

            “Why do we have to kill them?” Barry argued once they were back in the physics lab. “Why can’t we lock them up or something?”

            Wells slammed the duffel full of weapons he’d been carrying onto his desk. “Barry, these are monsters. They are no longer people—that has been robbed of them. I know it seems harsh, but that is the only way to free their souls and allow them to pass on. You are not saving people by sparing these soulless monsters.”

            It didn’t make Barry feel any better about it, but it pushed him to do what had to be done. He did his job, and he did it well. In fact, in the weeks since he started, human casualties were down to nearly zero. It made Barry proud of what he did. Really.

            Then, a group of vampires decided to try and take him down together. There were at least five of them, each with an axe to grind with the Slayer, whether it was Barry or leftover aggression from Oliver. They cornered him in an alley behind _Saints and Sinners_ , a dive bar that a lot of vamps lured unsuspecting victims from. He’d been ready to take them, stake drawn, when one of them was flung back against the wall behind them. The vampires all turned, and Barry took the opportunity to stake the one in the front. Another one was taken out beside him, only this time, Barry could see it was a man in a black, leather jacket helping him. The man was incredibly strong—Barry watched in awe as he ripped one of the vampires’ head off with his bare hands.

            Once the vampires were all ash, Barry’s savior turned to face him. “Hello, Slayer.”

 

            Barry’s first thought was _“Wow. That is an attractive man.”_ Followed closely by, _“Wait, how does he know about the Slayer?”_

Before Barry could ask, though, the man turned to leave. “Wait!” He shouted after him. “Who are you?”

            The man stopped dramatically and smirked over his shoulder. “Len.”

 

            It wasn’t until weeks later, after the mysterious Len saved him again, that Barry got his answers. The man had been injured after helping him fight off a vampire named Jake Simmons. Barry dragged him back to his foster family’s house—luckily, Joe was working the late shift at the police station and Iris was fast asleep—and to his room to perform minor first aid.

            “Why do you fight vampires?” He asked, cleaning the wound on Len’s side. “I mean, I’m kinda stuck with it, destiny and all. But you…”

            Len stiffened under his hand. “A vampire destroyed my family,” he replied sharply.

            Barry swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He pulled his hand away, but Len stopped him, laying his hand over it.

            “It’s okay,” he assured. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. If I were you, I’d want to know more about the strange man that kept appearing in my life that knew who I was.”

            That night, Barry found out Len’s secret. They both fell asleep, curled up together on Barry’s bed, until the Slayer was awoken by a howl of pain. The sun had started peeking through his window and onto his bed—or, more specifically, onto Len. Barry watched, confused, as he smoked and writhed in the light. Then, he saw his face. A flash of fangs and a wrinkled brow, and Barry’s world was thrown upside down.

            Dr. Wells, his Watcher, pulled a book from the Shelf of Weird in his office when Barry came frantically running in that morning.  

            “Leonard Snart,” Wells read, showing off an old sketching in the book. The hair was a lot longer, and his clothes older, but it was without a doubt Len. “It says that he’s the deadliest vampire of the 18th and 19th centuries.”

Barry felt sick. To think, he’d started developing _feelings_ for… He shuddered.

 “He and his sister were both bitten by their father, Lewis, and turned,” Wells continued. “After Leonard murdered his father, the two remaining Snarts began terrorizing all of Europe, eventually turning a Michael Rory, who joined them in their murderous rampage. Then, in the late 1800’s, Leonard disappeared.”

Barry frowned. “Where did he go? There has to be some kind of body trail.”

Wells shrugged. “As far as I can tell, there’s nothing the Watcher’s Council has found that points to what he was doing between then and now.”

He leaned over his watcher’s shoulder to read over the past information. It didn’t make sense. With this much killing and mayhem, it should’ve been simple for the council to track his movements, but it almost looked like Len… _stopped._

If he was a bloodthirsty monster, why would he save Barry’s life?

Then, he found out about Len’s curse—a hundred years before, Leonard killed a woman named Cynthia Reynolds. In revenge, her mother cast a spell to return his soul to him, so he could feel and regret every murder he ever committed. He rejected his old self and came to America to be reborn.

Helping the Slayer was a way to do that.

So, Len became a part of Team Slayer (it was a work in progress name that kind of stuck). He and Barry fought together, they bonded, and eventually, fell in love.

And that love was what destroyed them.

Now, nearly three years after his first meeting with Len—two months after murdering him—Barry was hollow.

He moved quietly through the cemetery every night, alone, doing the only thing that he could focus on anymore—slaying.

He got up in the morning. He ghosted his way through school. He came home to change into his red, leather slaying jacket and went on patrol. When dawn came, he slumped home to catch an hour of sleep before repeating. Again, and again, and again.

Because if he deviated…if he stopped for even a second…he’d see the look on Cisco’s face when Dante died, or Killer Frost, or feel Len’s body slump against his after being run through by Barry’s sword.

And he would shatter.

            He could still remember that night, clear as day. The night he really killed Len, and he first met Leonard Snart.

            Mick Rory had come to town. Barry didn’t know what the vamp had been thinking—maybe that he and Len could get back together, maybe that he could kill Barry and add another dead Slayer to his resume. Neither were sure, but Mick’s fury had been something fierce.

            If it hadn’t been for Joe shooting Mick to get him off of Barry, the Watcher’s Council would’ve been searching for a new Slayer. Len had blamed himself, of course, because if there was one thing a cursed soul did, it was infect its host with guilt.

            The vampire snuck into Barry’s room that night, a whole speech about how they needed to stay away from each other ready. Barry only listened to half before he launched himself at Len, throwing his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist.

            Len didn’t even try to resist. Before Barry knew it, they were both stripped down into nothing on his bed, grinding wantonly against each other. When Len entered him, Barry’s back bowed in pleasure, and he knew he would never feel the same about anyone ever again.

            _This is love._

            They passed out together, cuddled side-by-side, neither realizing what had happened until the wee hours of the morning, when Leonard rose out of bed, woke Barry up with a cold stare, and then tried to kill him for ‘making him weak’.

            Apparently, all it took was a moment of pure happiness to break the curse and get rid of Len’ soul.

            The only thing that had spared his life was that Leonard wanted him to suffer. So, he made sure he did.

            He turned Cisco’s brother, forcing Barry to kill him before he killed Cisco.

            He murdered Caitlin’s, the assistant librarian/witch and best friend of Cisco and Barry (despite being a year older than them and graduated), fiancé Ronnie in front of her, causing her to lose control of her magic, go dark, and try to freeze the planet.

He kidnapped Iris, knowing it would draw Barry out, and nearly turned her. If it hadn’t been for Wells, he would’ve succeeded. Which is how Wells got fired from the Watcher’s Council.

            Finally, Barry had enough. With the help of Len’s sister, Lisa—who had fallen in love with Cisco, despite her lack of soul, and knew that Leonard Snart was someone who needed to be stopped—he tracked Leonard down to an abandoned mansion, where he was planning to open a portal to Hell, wake up a demon, and destroy the world.

            Barry thought Leonard was going to kill him. In some ways, he _wanted_ him to. He didn’t want to live in a world where they were enemies. He loved Len in a way he’d never loved anyone before.

            So, when he got an opening, he let it pass, ready to let Leonard take him.

            Then, a breeze blew over them, and something clicked behind Leonard—no _Len’s_ —eyes. A soul twinkled there, fresh and returned by Caitlin’s magic.

           

            Barry shook his head, not wanting to relive what happened next. Len was dead. End of story. No amount of regret was going to change it. He continued his walk through the graveyard, his hand tightening around his wooden stake.

Joe would be worried—it was getting late.

Iris would question him in the morning—they had school early, and he was going to be tired.

Caitlin would watch him worriedly when he stepped into the library—there would be swollen, dark bags under his eyes.

Cisco would refuse to acknowledge him—he was still, rightfully, furious with him over his brother, and wouldn’t care what was happening with Barry.

Wells would call when he got home from school—he still worried about Barry, even though his job had been passed on to Jay Garrick, Barry’s new Watcher.

But time would move on. He would go out again, slay some vamps, maybe hit a demon. Maybe something would finally get lucky. Barry didn’t care. Everything he touched died. He wasn’t just a vampire slayer, he was the slayer of normalcy, of relationships, of hope.

A shout for help echoed across the quiet cemetery, harshly yanking Barry out of his pity party. A jolt of excitement shot through his heart. If he was going to die, he was going to go out fighting.


End file.
